


Snow Angels

by Ameiko



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 09:55:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ameiko/pseuds/Ameiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss plays with her kids in the snow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Angels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chelzie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelzie/gifts).



> The best beta in the world requested a fluffy fic where Katniss plays with her kids in the snow. Merry Christmas, Chelzie!

I don’t remember ever playing in the snow as a child. It just wasn’t something that was a good idea when you were borderline starved and not clothed warmly enough. My mother always worried that we would catch a cold that would settle into our lungs. No, playing in the snow was something that merchant kids who were dressed in layered coats and gloves did. I remember watching them running and frolicking with little regard for the dangers of frostbite and pneumonia. They seemed so very stupid to me. Later on I was forced to go out hunting even when the weather was bad—something that I did grudgingly while damning the snow and ice. Winter weather was never something that I really enjoyed. But we wanted a different life for our children than the one that Peeta and I led. I didn’t want them to fear the cold.

I suppose that was why I didn’t refuse when Hope begged for the sled that was on display in the center of the Hob. Her big blue eyes widened the second she caught sight of it. Even little Micha seemed intrigued by it. Despite all of the new wares from the Capitol that were now available, the sled—like most things for sale there—was hand-made. Constructed of a few boards connected with bright red runners and rope tied to the front of it, it didn’t look like much to me, but I could tell that Hope was already racing down hills atop of the thing in her mind. I guess that if I were a child, I would have been dying for the chance to ride it, too.

All the way home that day, Hope chattered on about how much fun it would be to go sledding the next day when Daddy was home. With the bakery closed on Sunday, I knew that Peeta wouldn’t mind joining our little adventure, and to be honest, I wasn’t quite sure that I could find the fun in the activity that my kids seemed to be hoping for. Peeta, after all, was the fun parent. He was the one who made hand puppets and formed little men out of bread for them. I was the one who enforced bed time and made them eat their peas. The fact that Hope and, by extension, Micha didn’t consider me fun enough to want to go sledding with kind of bothered me. It bothered me so much in fact that I decided to do something about it.

“I wish it was Sunday now,” Hope whined for the dozenth time since getting the sled.

Micha pulled his thumb out of his mouth just long enough to agree. “I wanna wide down the hill.”

“Well, then go get your coats and boots,” I prompted from the kitchen where I had been cleaning the counter.

“Really, Mama?” Hope asked incredulously.

“Really,” I assured her. “Now, help your brother put on his boots and gloves.”

The kids get ready in a flurry of action so quick that I barely had enough time to get my own coat and boots on. Hope skipped out of the door grabbing the sled on her way toward the hill. Micha trailed behind as fast as he could manage, and I pulled up the rear laughing as I watched them go. As it turned out, Micha’s four year old legs weren’t quite strong enough to make it up the hill. I carried him the rest of the way.

At the top of hill, Hope paused and looked up at me with nervous eyes. “It’s a long way down,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Not so far down,” I countered. “We’ve made it all the way up and will have to go down somehow.”

“But will be going really fast, won’t we?” she asked.

I set Micha down, as he had begun to fidget. “But it will be fun. I thought you wanted to go sledding?”

“With Daddy!” Hope whined.

“Do you think I would let anything bad happen to you either?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Will you ride down with us?”

I looked at the sled dubiously. It would easily fit both kids, but I wasn’t sure about adding myself in. Plopping down on the back of it, I rested my feet against the cross bar. Hope prompted Micha to get on next, and with him on, there was still just enough room for her up in front. She kicked at the snow with her boot for a moment as though she still wasn’t sure if she wanted to come along. Finally, she curled into the spot up front. Before either child could change their mind, I pushed off down the hill.

Honestly, it didn’t go nearly as fast as I thought it would. The snow wasn’t packed too firmly, and I am sure my added weight slowed us down too. Micha giggled the whole way down. I couldn’t see Hope’s face to gauge her reaction while we were in motion, but as soon as we stopped she turned back to me.

“AGAIN!” she cried exuberantly.

I laughed and nodded. “Again.”

They went down the hill about a dozen more times on their own. I was content to play taxi on the way back up the hill. Even with all of the layers, I began to feel the bite of the cold through my clothes, and knew that it was time to go back inside. I expected to hear complaints when I said it was time to go home, but neither of them fought me. Instead, Hope held out her arms and let herself flop into the snow.

“Whatcha doin’, sissy?” Micha asked, seemingly as curious as I was.

“Makin’ a snow angel. You remember, like Aunt Delly and Daddy said they made when they were kids,” she explained patiently. Standing up slowly, she stepped out of the mark she had made. “See?”

In a way, it did kind of look like an angel. One side was dug in deeper than the other and there were boot marks where she had stood up. My daughter, however, was a snow angel. With her hat barely hanging on and snow all though her dark hair, she looked like some other worldly creature. I wanted to hold her tight and never let go of her just like she was.

Micha began to squirm. “I make one, too.”

Sweet little Micha, with his fair hair and chubby cheeks, jumped into the snow to copy his sister’s technique. He didn’t quite make anything that looked like an angel, either. He tired of the experiment too quickly, and reached his mitten clad hand into the snow to form a ball. I opened my mouth to warn him not to throw it, but I was too late. The snowball hit Hope square in the chest. Inwardly, I groaned knowing that she would not be very happy about it. With a squeal of joy, however, she reached down and formed her own ammunition.

They frolicked and played in the snow so very much like the merchant children that I had watched so many years ago with disdain. This time, though, I saw it for what it really was. Children turning something cold and forbidding into something full of wonder and fun. Feeling a wave of love for my children sweep over me, I reached down and formed a snowball. I tossed it gently at Micha. His gray eyes sparkled.

“I get you, Mama!” he cried.

The cold forgotten for the time being, we raced and played for almost another hour. By then, both children were tired and ready to go inside. I towed them both on the sled the whole way home. When I looked back, Micha was safely and warmly wrapped in his big sister’s arms. A smile came over my face so big that my cold lips almost ached from it.

Peeta was waiting for us at home with hot chocolate and warm, hearty stew for dinner. He gave me a knowing look as the kids told him all about our day while he helped get them out of their wet things.

“I thought you hated snow?” he asked, while they washed up for dinner.

I shrugged. “I may have to rethink my position on it.”

“Who knew you could get all melty in the snow?” he chuckled.

“Don’t push it, mister,” I warned him, nuzzling my cold nose against his cheek.

“Mama, can we go sledding again tomorrow?” Hope asked, breaking up our little romance.

Peeta frowned. “Don’t you want to wait until Sunday so Daddy can take you, cupcake?”

“Nope. Mama is really fun to play with in the snow,” she said before running off to play.

“I think I have been replaced,” Peeta said with a smile. “And I think you ought to make it up to me.”

“Oh?” I inquired lightly.

“I think we deserve some play time of our own once these two are in bed,” he told me huskily.

I laughed and sipped my hot chocolate. It seemed like the perfect ending to a perfect day, something that happened so rarely. Maybe those merchant children all of those years ago were smarter than I thought.


End file.
